


Constants and Variables

by onlylonely



Category: Yandere Simulator (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Pairings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-09-20 01:44:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9469865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlylonely/pseuds/onlylonely
Summary: There are an infinite number of worlds. Each has their own minute changes from the other. But there is always a young girl seeking a lover, she will do everything in her power to win them, and the fact her target is doomed to be hers. Ayano x alternate pairing word prompt challenges (all rivals, Senpai, Info-chan, Budo, Midori, and Kokona eventually).Chapter II with Ayano x Kokona is up.





	1. Ayano x Midori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Yandere Simulator [insert joke of your choice here about that].  
> Hi everyone. 
> 
> Since I’m currently stumped at the moment on how to proceed with my other project, sympathy for the devil, I figured I would try something different to get the creative juices flowing. This will be a series of story snippets based on one-word phrases or words for Ayano and random assorted pairings. My personal challenge to myself was not to skip anything that I was given even if it might be rather difficult to figure out how to incorporate the word. If enough people are interested, I will consider doing a second set of segments for them (none will share too much continuity between them and they can generally be considered stand alone shorts). Everyone’s favorite (???) audience surrogate definitely deserves some love so without further ado…

Chapter I

Ayano x Midori

"Just one more thing:  
Remember the whole world’s a circus,  
Don’t you be the clown.”  
\- Chic, “(Funny) Bone”

1\. Evidence

“You’ll help me, won’t you, Midori?”

It is a choice without a choice.

Ayano knows that she will say yes. Ayano knows that Midori will help her cut up the corpse, putting each dismembered limb into various trash bags, and help her haul them to the incinerator. Ayano knows that they will scrub the wood and tile so that the police will find no trace of her handiwork.

The younger girl stands before her, hands on her hips as she begins a slow, rhythmic tap with her foot. She does not have to focus her attention on Midori to have her understand the gravity of the situation; the knife that is still being held in a death grip does that for her as she casually glances around the room, eyes moving from each door and window and briefly back to her accomplice. Haruka’s blood is now beginning to pool by Ayano’s feet, her corpse spread eagled only a few centimeters away.

Midori knows that Ayano already has the answer long before she finally has the courage to speak.

“...Yes, Ayano. When we make messes, we’re supposed to clean it up. It’s… it’s just like primary school.”

Fear has long since fled Midori when Ayano’s ‘personal matters’ crop up. She has grown accustomed to being told what to do and how to do it. Tonight will be no different; she is a slave waiting to obey its mistress.

Ayano’s grip on the knife loosens ever so slightly as a smile slowly spreads across her features and her dull gaze lights up for a brief moment. Even when the girl comes closest to approaching happiness, it still looks so unnatural. 

“Good girl.”

The words of praise are sickly sweet, viscous and slow as if they were honey dripping down the side of a jar, but this too is just a formality. Midori does not even bother responding to the younger student as she moves to the mop that she brought into the room after the deed was done (the sooner that they can leave, the better).

But Kokona Haruka’s accusing gaze never leaves hers when they are cleaning up.

~~~

2\. Bullet

“Oh, you’re going down, Aishi!”

Ayano ignored the taunt of her green-haired opponent and focuses only on the game before her. She had had no desire to join the gaming club. Every minute spent within its walls was simply another that she could not spend looking after Senpai and, even worse, all that time would be spent with the school’s greatest nuisance Midori Gurin.

That title was an accomplishment all on its own as far as Ayano was concerned.

Yet joining a club had its uses. If a girl her age had to be ‘social’ but wanted to put no effort into actually going out and making the effort of socializing then video games were as good an excuse as any to add onto her daily disguise.

Ayano had never even wanted to really get to know the other club members either but with only a handful of them it was inevitable that they would want to at least do something with her during the club’s meetup hour. Luckily, it seemed, that even when Pippi suggested they try some LAN matchs for Squad Fort 2 everyone preferred to keep to themselves. 

Or, at least, mostly everyone in the club.

“C’mon now, don’t be shy! What’s the use in hiding? Afraid of little ol’ me?!”

Gods did Gurin make her want to slowly cut out her tongue with a rusty scalpel.

The moment they had begun Gurin had immediately begun trash talking. This would not have bothered Ayano so much if Gurin also did not happen to be the best player in the entire group for the game as well. As she quickly looked at Ryuto to her left she could see that the boy’s eyes were glazed over and as she looked around at everyone else in the room she could see it was much the same. They all had the good sense to pay no mind to the algae-haired smack talker directly across from Ayano.

Yet she had taken it to heart and it had paid dividends. For every comment that Gurin made about how she expected to be playing with high schoolers and not a retirement home Ayano had steeled herself and mowed down her opponents. For every asinine comment about her sexual conquests with her father (or mother, she noticed) from Gurin she would camp that much more. The others had grumbled, but what did she care? That was the entire point of the sniper class.

It was down to the wire now. 

29 to 29.

“Come on out, Aishi. Just give up already! If you do, I promise I’ll go easy on you next time!”

She watched from halfway across the field as Gurin’s heavy combat specialist moved spastically about, its model waving its gun around in every direction. If only she would move beyond the small adobe base on the Blue side then she would have a clear shot. Ayano can feel her index finger swiping ever so carefully forward, her pointer finger itching…

Crack.

Make that 30 to 29.

An incoherent squawk of rage and confusion emanates from the nerdy girl opposite her and Ayano is certain that shutting her up was almost as satisfying as spending an afternoon following Senpai home.

Almost.  
~~~

3\. Touch

“You know, Midori, I can open my locker myself…”

Midori immediately withdraws her fingers from the lock and places them by her sides. It is a bad habit, she knows, and one that Ayano does not appreciate much.

“S-sorry, Ayano, I know you can. I just like to help!” her voice brightens a bit and ups an octave.

“I mean, yeah, you totally know the combination but what if something bad happened to you? Like your hands,” she takes one of the limbs in question and wiggles it back and forth in front of her classmate’s face, “they could get hurt. What if you got into a bad car accident? Or broke the wrist on your dominant hand? If I don’t practice now then how would I know if I could be there in your time of need?!”

Ayano stares at her blankly. Well, more blankly than normal. Ayano is a strange girl, Midori has noticed. She doesn’t say much, and when she does, it always seems like it comes out funny, as if she took a lot of sleeping medicine. She doesn’t think Ayano does drugs but she has never worked up the courage to ask the other girl if everything is alright.

“You can count on me, Ayano. I’ll never ever let you down. It’s bad to be able to help others but choose not to.”

Midori is practically shouting now and there are several people staring at them with perplexed looks. It’s not like she cares, though. The only person at Akademi whose opinion matters is the girl in front of her and Ayano simply gives a curt nod.

“You have a big heart, Midori. Not many people would be willing to do that for their friends.”

Bobbing her head Midori twirls in place as she watches Ayano exchange her books for the second round of classes.

“Of course, Ayano! You’re my best friend and best friends are supposed to do anything for each other.”

Ayano peers at her from behind the locker door and studies Midori for a moment with an expression she can’t quite place. Midori doesn’t understand; why would something like that be a big deal? Granted, Ayano is also her only friend but that shouldn’t matter. It isn’t as if Ayano doesn’t know how much she means to her already.

“…I shouldn’t have even been surprised. I don’t think I deserve a friend like you sometimes. You’re pretty great, you know that?”

Midori’s face flushes for some reason and she quickly looks away from the other girl. The flipping sensation she has grown accustomed to whenever Ayano is around is there in her tummy again.

“That’s not true! Not as great as you’ve been to me, Ayano. I–”

The chiming of the first bell echoes through the front hall as Ayano slams her door shut.

“We better get going; don’t want to be late again. You know how Shuyona gets when he finds students in the halls during class time. I’ll see you around, Midori,” Ayano says as she gives her a wave before departing.

“Right…”

As Midori leaves with her best friend there is just a little more pep in her step than usual though she would be hard pressed if asked to explain why.

~~~

4\. Wednesday

Ayano sits on the benches of the school’s roof and looks down at her lunch in disinterest. The unappetizing smell of warm tofu and broccoli meets her nose as she stirs the dish carefully, mixing the gochujang in as best she can with the rice and vegetables with her chopsticks, before she gingerly picks up a small pile of rice and pops it into her mouth.

There are few things that Ayano has ever been passionate about. Food is certainly not one of them and she strongly doubts she could name a ‘favorite’ if ever asked by someone. But this will do; the gas station beside her home had surprisingly fresh ingredients and the sell-by date at least put it within the next day. Perhaps it’s a good thing that she doesn’t enjoy eating much. At the very least it keeps her figure trim and fit.

After all, in all the reconnaissance she has done, Senpai has never expressed an interest in fat girls.

She has always sat in silence and ate by herself. It’s the only way to keep herself relatively sane when she already has to listen to the prattle from her fellow students struggle to answer the questions from last night’s assignment. Sometimes if Ayano is feeling brave enough she will dare to finish hear meal early and snap a few pictures of Senpai to save for later at home (though that always runs the risk of having her brain dead peers noticing). But today is not going to be one of those days; it will be only a matter of time before the faculty notices that Osana has gone missing. Ayano just needs to play it coolly, and despite having little to no emotions, it is easier said than done.

So to help her today she has brought the latest tankobon of Bukiyona’s Daily Life to help pass the time, carefully avoiding splashing her food’s sauce on the paper as she gingerly eats the food with one hand and holds open her book with the other. Despite her best efforts humor is something that has always eluded her and so the pratfalls of the main character are something that she stares at without any sort of mirth as she flips through the pages. Instead Ayano has always made a game out of fiction. If she can’t appreciate what the author intends for audiences to understand, something that is almost always the case, she shall try to guess where the plot will proceed instead. Curiosity is something that comes easily enough to her and allows her to at least gains some understanding of the people around her. It is far less taxing on her patience to read about the fictional exploits of the world’s idiots than to actually entertain the ones around her.

She isn’t quite sure just how Bukiyona plans on explaining how she fell into the aquarium and got to swim with the dolphins but it turns out she will not get the chance.

“Are you… are you a fan of Bukiyona too?”

The voice is squeaky but not in the same way as many of her fellow students’ are. Rather than the effects of lingering bodily development it is the kind of tone that one might expect from a beaten dog, an almost apologetic tone that is afraid of asking the wrong question altogether. Ayano’s eyes glance upward to be greeted with a pair of vibrantly green eyes. The gangly, awkward girl fidgets in place at a speed Ayano does not believe possible as she tilts her head questioningly.

“...Yes?”

It’s not a complete lie. Sometimes she has to admit she likes seeing those like the morons around her get away with their antics without punishment.

“Oh my gosh!”

The squeal of delight that the girl with mossy-looking hair gives her nearly makes her drop the bento box carefully situated her knees as she darts forward, planting herself firmly on the bench beside Ayano, and leans in babbling excitedly.

“You’llneverbelievehowmuchI’vewantedtotalkwithsomeoneaboutthisbecauseshe’ssofunnyandremindsmesomuchofmelotsofpeopletellmeI’msuperclumslylikeherbutthey’rejustmeaniessoIignoreitwhocareswhattheyhavetosayanywayrightImeanit’snotlikethey’reimportnatoranythingbutanwyayBukiyonaissofunnyshegetsintosomanyfunnyadventureshaveyougottentotheoneyetwhereshegoestothehospitalandaccidentallyunplugsoneofthepatientslifesupportdon’tworrytheydon’tdietheyendupbecomingfriends…”

The girl takes a deep breath and Ayano is surprised to find that the tsunami emanating from her mouth has a stopping place even if it’s due to the lack of oxygen. Cautiously she holds up a finger and taps the girl on the shoulder.

“…I’m sorry. I’d love to talk about this but I don’t have a clue what your name is.”

“Oh! Sorry! When I get going, I really get going, don’t I? My name is Midori Gurin! What’s yours?”

“Ayano Aishi.”

There are few things that Ayano can enjoy in life that are not Senpai. After that Wednesday and the introduction of the school’s worst student into her life Bukiyona is no longer one of those few things either.

~~~

5\. Excite

“Ayano! Ayano!”

Midori’s voice echoes through the hallway as she waves to the soot-haired schoolgirl just a few hundred centimeters away. Many of the students around them either snort or quickly hurry out of Ayano’s way as the girl stumbles from the sudden commotion behind her. They won’t be caught dead hanging around her; Midori has long made peace with that fact.

Picking herself up with as much grace as she can muster (and she is always graceful, Midori knows) Ayano turns to her with a bright smile and clasps her hands together.

“Yes, Midori…?”

No matter where she is, or what her problem is, Ayano will always stop and help her. At first Midori didn’t understand why. None of the others ever cared about her; she had never been invited to any of the parties that they threw, never invited to sit with anyone at lunch, and verbally tore her apart when they thought she wasn’t paying attention. 

But not Ayano Aishi.

For whatever reason the girl treated her with the undying patience of a bodhisattva and no matter how trivial her endless stream of questions was or how much it her hurt her own reputation her underclassman would be there for her.

“W-well, you know, there’s a new premiere of Murder College on Channel 7 tonight, right?”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t as if Midori hadn’t reminded her of this fact about 15 times already.

Rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, students filing about her, glowering at her as she lands on some of their own feet she tries to figure out how best to approach her next question. Ayano says nothing and merely looks to her fellow classmates as they mill past them, eying Midori in annoyance and Ayano with confusion. Midori has long given up on having any sort of working relationship with everyone at Akademi but she knows that her very presence is something that will have ramifications for the other girl. Any sign of weakness and the predators will pick off the weakest link in the herd as it were.

“Do you think you might want to, that is I mean, if you’d like to because I really enjoy talking to you about s-stuff like this, come over and–”

“Come over…?”

Sometimes Ayano did strange things that Midori could not understand. Like right now, in fact. She would repeat words back to her – not that there was anything wrong with that, as Midori often did it herself – but as if she had to think about things before she talked about them again. At first Midori had thought that she had found a kindred spirit in Ayano, someone who found the world just as frustratingly confusing as she did, but it was certainly different between them. For Midori, it was confusion at what society wanted. 

For Ayano, it seemed as if she knew on a basic level what was being requested, but had to find a reason to answer.

“Yeah!”

Midori perks up, her face splitting into a grin and she begins to bounce and place like a jack hammer, hands flitting slightly as she waited for the other girl to respond. When Ayano chose to say nothing, and instead stare in confusion at her, she came to an abrupt stop and cleared her throat.

“…I mean, did you want to head over to my house tonight to watch it? At 19:00?”

There is a flicker of uncertainty that graces Ayano’s features that causes Midori’s heart to go into overdrive. She’s gone too far and now she’s ruined it. Ayano won’t want to come over. She’s just being nice and it’s always been that way. She doesn’t actually want to come visit Midori, she just wants her to not feel like she’s lonely at school.

“Um, sure. I guess it could be fun? Your parents are okay with that, right?”

“Right! I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t get their permission first, y’know? Guess I’ll be seeing you later tonight if I don’t see you after school today on the way home. It’s a date!”

Midori practically skips down Akademi’s hallway not bothering to pay attention with the stares of her fellow students and certainly not seeing Ayano’s right eye twitch.

~~~

6\. Surprise

The glow of the television in the Gurin living room is the only thing that illuminates the darkness.

Ayano watches the flickering shapes of the actors and actresses before her in uneasy silence. She has never been to a ‘friend’s’ house before and has no idea of what to do. Midori shooed her in and slammed the front door shut behind them, whirling her into the living room before she even had time to remove her shoes, and plopped her onto the couch before she bounded over to the screen and turned it on. After that Ayano sat, staring at her classmate as the girl laid out dish after dish of packaged snack foods before them as if she were setting up a toshidana. Just as she finished laying out the last bowl of green tea-flavored chocolate bars the program had begun and Midori took her seat beside Ayano without so much as a peep. It had been the most quiet she had ever seen the girl in fact.

That had been an hour ago and the program had gone on. It wasn’t anything special and Ayano was certain that even if she had been capable of feeling anything for the program her thoughts would have been the same. It was a fairly typical whodunit with ‘college students’ who looked as if they should be raising children about her age and whose only redeeming factor was that perhaps some of the murders would be useful in giving Ayano some inspiration. She did have to admit that the thought of pushing a certain someone off of a cliff while on a hike together did have its appeal.

A certain someone who was now loudly snoring in her ear.

Half an hour in Ayano had felt a sudden weight on her left shoulder that almost caused her to leap to her defenses and it was only with the reality of where she was and who she was with return her to her senses. The Gurin household was nothing special: it was a fairly typical suburban home with an unremarkable couple (though with a daughter who was extraordinary in taxing her patience). Midori’s parents worked long hours and left their seemingly disabled daughter up to her own devices in a way that Ayano guessed would have made many others question their parenting. There was no threat of them returning early as Midori had told her later in the day after inviting her over; the sushi bar wasn’t going to drink itself dry or so she figured.

It wouldn’t be worth it to extricate herself from the other girl pressing into her side but she hated the constant unladylike sleeping habit of her older classmate. She could barely even hear the program now with the droning in her ear. Had Midori not told her that her parents had given express permission for her to be over that evening she would have seriously considered smothering Gurin with a pillow but it was far too risky a move at this point. Foul play would certainly be suspected though Ayano liked to think that if a judge were to hear her entire case they would side in her favor.

Then it happened.

Midori’s hands quickly slid around Ayano’s waist and locked themselves in place. Even if she couldn’t understand what embarrassment was like she could at least know what it was like from having watched countless people in her life. This, surely, would be counted as one of the times where one would utter protestations about how the situation was actually quite different than what it seemed and it was a misunderstanding. As she sat there in the dim window of the murder mystery playing out before her she could only wonder what Mr. and Mrs. Gurin might say if they came back to see their daughter entangled in such a compromising way with another girl.

Would they even bother interrupting them? Was it likely Midori would try to brush it off and say that she had simply been tired and fallen asleep where she had by chance? They sounded so detached that Ayano could readily believe that they might very well assume the worst. She certainly didn’t want to spend a possible hour or two telling her hosts that she had no romantic designs on their daughter and that it was all just an innocent get-together between two ‘friends.’

Though Ayano had to admit that the feeling of the girl beside her was interesting if for no other reason than she was not used to intimate contact with others unless it was performing a social ritual like a hug or having a victim struggle underneath her. Midori’s sheer level of trust in her not to snap her neck as if it were a fallen twig was amazing; she had no idea the danger that she was in but couldn’t care even if she wanted to. ‘Brave but stupid’ was a rather good description of Midori, Ayano decided. 

It’s also what she has concluded she would like the staff to write on the girl’s grave marker if it ever comes to that.

~~~

7\. Breakable

“Can I talk to you about something, Ayano?”

Ayano gives her a small ‘mm’ in response, her eyes never leaving the chemistry textbook sitting before her on the thin wooden table at the back of the library, and Midori knows that the time is now or never. She has been waiting at least a week to take the plunge and she’s spent the last few days carefully determining the library’s slow period after school. As much as she didn’t like the idea of skipping out on the gaming club’s activities today was much more important than keeping her high score.

“Well… have you, y’know, ever liked someone? Like really liked them?”

“You mean if I’ve been in love with someone before.”

Ayano still isn’t paying attention to Midori and that only makes her that much more nervous. The other girl’s head rests in her palm, eyes downcast lazily at the various mathematical equations, her other arm occasionally scratching the work paper before her with whatever answer she had worked out. Ayano doesn’t like beating around the bush and this time is no exception; it’s something that Midori has come to appreciate given her own problems with figuring out metaphors but this time it bothers her. There is a distance to her voice, a kind of coldness that almost seems unapproachable, and she can feel a knot of anxiety beginning to form in her gut.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m sure someone like you has had loads of people asking them out before, right?”

Ayano’s pen has stopped moving and she fixes her gaze from the book to Midori now. The expression on her friend’s face is almost as unreadable as her tone. There are no tics or tremors to be found, only a strange stillness that Midori initially mistakes for polite confusion, but becomes something much more meaningful with her response.

“It’s complicated.”

“That seems silly. Who wouldn’t want to make you happy?”

Midori notices that Ayano is staring at her now, head tilted ever so slightly, and she has the distinct sensation that she is treading dangerously. But her father is a realtor and he has always told her that the majority of his job was the presentation and not necessarily the product itself.

“I don’t think they even know I exist.”

Midori didn’t know what heartbreak was but in every love story she had ever read it was one of the worst feelings you could possibly imagine. The thought of her best friend in such emotional straits filled her with a kind of distress that she hadn’t thought she was capable of. But she had to press on, she needed to know if Ayano could feel the same way, but she would have to tread lightly.

“Have you tried talking to them about it?”

The soft glow of the setting sun from the window spilling into the library only accentuates the blush that has appeared on Ayano’s normally pale cheeks. The other girl looks down at the table, the pen dropped and her finger interlaced, as she stares at the desk with an intenseness that Midori is sure could burn through it if she could. Somehow Ayano always knows how to be both radiant and cute at the same time.

“…No. Scared.”

Midori blinks at that in surprise. How could she possibly be scared? Ayano seemed so cool, nothing phased her and she always had a way to settle situations if they were getting out of hand. She had even worked a miracle by having people willing to talk around Midori herself and not run the other direction by virtue of her presence alone.

“But that’s crazy, Ayano!” her voice rises in pitch and she makes a pout, gripping the sides of the table and standing up.

“You deserve more than that, trust me. You’re so… so pretty. I mean, everyone who gets to know you notices that. I know, I listen to them when you’re not around and while it’s sometimes not, well, nice... they definitely take notice.”

Midori doesn’t consider herself a prude by any stretch of the imagination but some of the talk about Ayano from the boys in the photography club had made her skin crawl.

“You’re so smart. I’m not very good with books and I talk too much but when you say things you say them just right. I think you make a lot of the girls here jealous.”

But Ayano gives her no response. She has seemingly totally shut down and fear hits Midori like a wasp sting. Had she gone too far? It had been an innocent enough question but clearly it was a deep seated issue for her friend. She couldn’t have known it would make her like this but she would be damned if knowing wouldn’t make her feel better.

It’s now or never.

“...That’s why I love you. I know maybe that’s not what you want to hear ‘cause I know I’m dumb, annoying, and all that other stuff. I don’t know if you feel about girls, um, in the special kind of way but that’s okay.”

If nothing else she has snapped Ayano out of her funk. The girl’s expression is one of perfect neutrality, eyes glazed over and unpredictable, perfectly still in the uncomfortable library chair.

“Maybe you don’t want to deal with what people would say here at school might say. They won’t see it as right. But I don’t care about what those dummies think. I want to know what you think, Ayano. So I guess… I guess what I’m trying to say is that even if that person you’ve got a crush on won’t say anything, I will.”

Midori giggles nervously and she gives Ayano her best and brightest smile she can muster unwrapping her fingers from one another and reaching across the table to cup Ayano’s hands in her own.

“That special someone you were talking about… I doubt they’ve said what I just said. I noticed you first! Romance anime rules are the first girl gets the main character, right?”

Ayano says nothing and simply stands up, carefully placing her chemistry work and class book back into her satchel, tucking away the pen she was using neatly into the carrying pouch attached to the side. Each second seems like an hour as Midori waits for the words she’s wanted to hear so much they’ve invaded her dreams. But hope begins to wither in her as she watches Ayano push in her chair and stare at her for only a moment before she slowly shakes her head and walks past her out the door.

“In those romance stories the first girl’s life is always fraught with the most tragedy, isn’t it?”

Midori finally understands what heartbreak is.

~~~

8\. Discipline

“Midori…”

Ayano sits on top of the other girl’s stomach, legs positioned at either side of her frame to prevent her from squirming too much, and watches the other girl twitch and sniffle underneath her.

“I promise I won’t tell anybody, Ayano, I swear. I was just sending an e-e-mail on my phone and I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t m-m-mean to snoop…”

She has heard variations of this before and she will hear many more afterward. Victims and witnesses always cry and beg, pleading with her not to gut them as if they were fish at the market, before she ends up doing the deed. There is no reward for her in these activities other than the relief she feels after disposing of the corpses. An insane person would revel in the violence and bloodshed and if there is one thing Ayano isn’t it’s insane.

Girls who have mental illnesses do not get the boys of their dreams. They get white jackets and endless days filled with prescription drugs, not a loving husband and children.

The knife despite its size feels heavy in her hand, as if she were Ida-ten himself about to hand down judgment, and she grazes it gently along Midori’s chin. Despite the fact that the girl’s hands are fully available to her she chooses to clutch her phone desperately, as if her precious game developer could save her. Midori’s large green eyes are filled with unshed tears as she whimpers underneath Ayano.

“Did you now? It’s not polite to become involved in someone else’s business, Midori. Isn’t that what knocking is for?”

There was more to the entire situation then just an inopportune spectator of course. Budo Masuta had proven himself a valiant opponent Ayano supposed but he had still fallen to her just the same. It was a pity that he had been as obsessed with honor as he had right up until the end. The conflict that had played across his features over whether or not to incapacitate a girl had cost him his life when she had brought the axe swinging into his abdomen and then sinking it into the rest of him as fast as she could manage. It had been a challenge to haul him into the basement by herself but it had been smooth sailing after he finally bled out. He would be investigating nothing now that his charred remains sat the bottom of the incinerator.

“P-p-please, I don’t wanna…”

“Want to what?”

The dam has finally broken and Ayano watches the girl’s tears spill down her cheeks, her face slowing turning pink with irritation from the effort and her phone clatters to the floor next to her, forgotten as she brings her hands up to her head. Gently Ayano brings a finger to Midori and runs her finger along one of the streams as the warm liquid dissipating as she rubs her fingers together.

“…Die.”

Midori’s voice is so uncharacteristically small that Ayano has to strain her own ears to hear her. She removes the knife from the girl’s throat and Midori slightly relaxes. Cocking her head to one side Ayano stares at her fellow student for a moment. Midori’s eyes are tearstained but there’s an underlying sense of hope. No, Ayano knows she can’t allow that. The blade returns to Midori once more and it grazes against the girl’s skin as it travels from her throat down to her stomach.

Despite weighing slightly more than Midori Ayano can feel the girl begin to shake and tremble at last against her leg lock. A distinct wetness comes from somewhere underneath her and Ayano resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“You’re forgetting so many manners today, Midori. You should definitely go to the bathroom for that sort of thing, not on others. Babies do that. But that’s what you are, aren’t you?”

Midori only offers her a sniffle in response.

Utterly pathetic.

“You don’t have to be an enemy, though, you know. I wouldn’t want to be responsible depriving parents of their child,” Ayano’s voice emphasizes the last word as her knife gently scrapes against Midori’s uniform.

“I d-d-d-don’t know if I want to be your friend anymore, Ayano!”

“Be careful, Midori. You don’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

Midori’s fiery gaze is snuffed out as immediately as it came to her. Her arms go slack now and her breathing becomes much slower. Perhaps the shock of it all has finally caught up with her, not that Ayano truly cares.

“Promise me you won’t say a word of what you saw to anyone.”

Her knife is perched directly above the girl’s abdomen and she puts a slight amount of force behind it, the tip of the weapon touching Midori’s skin but not breaking it.

“I–”

“Say it.”

“I won’t…”

Ayano’s fingers grab Midori’s hair and pull. Midori cries out which only earns her a harder tug.

“Say it.”

“I won’t say anything to anyone!”

Ayano removes the knife from Midori’s torso, tucking it into the small band around her leg for carrying items into Akademi, and gives the girl a smile.

“As your best friend I think we ought to spend more time together; it seems we don’t do it much anymore with my job. In fact, I think you should come work with me. It’ll be fun.”

The other girl’s initially confused expression turns to one of dawning realization and she begins to struggle slightly once more.

“There’s n-no way I’m ever helping–!”

Ayano’s free hand clamps over her mouth.

“Why, thank you, Midori. You’re such a good friend. I’m sure you’ll enjoy every moment of it.”

There is no further resistance from Midori, not when she stands up to feel her knees crack slightly at the sudden movement, nor does she rebel even after they leave for the evening.

She never does.

~~~

9\. Fantasy

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Without a second thought Midori nodded her head eagerly at Ayano her eyes filled with determination.

“Yeah! But, well, I mean I’ll try to be as gentle as I can okay? I’ve never done this before…”

Ayano’s smile was soft, her eyes warm, as she reached out to squeeze the other girl’s hand reassuringly.

“Midori, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“So, uh,” Midori nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “I’m gonna get ready and try to slip into something more comfortable. Don’t laugh, alright?”

Shaking her head Ayano chuckled. “C’mon, Midori, I’d never do that.”

Midori can feel her face heat up and she looks away from her companion towards the wall of her room. They had only been going out for a few months now and Midori still wasn’t sure that she was ready for what lay ahead. If you loved someone, and vice versa, there was no reason to be afraid but she couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. What if Ayano couldn’t handle what they were about to do? What if she couldn’t? Her girlfriend sat placidly on the bed, still in her uniform eying her with a quiet smile, sitting motionless waiting for her to make the first move. Midori had been planning for this moment for a while now. Her parents had gone out for a night of drinking with her father’s coworkers and they wouldn’t be home until the early hours of the morning.

The time had come.

Unceremoniously Midori stripped off her stockings, uncomfortably aware of Ayano’s hungry gaze as she stumbled slightly to the right almost tripping over one of the many stacks of manga strewn about the floor. Next came her skirt which she shimmied down her legs and tossed in the hamper in the corner. 

“See? You’re not so bad at this, Midori. You sure know how to keep a girl in suspense…”

The last thing off was Midori’s shirt and it too joined the skirt in the clothes bin. There. That hadn’t been as hard as she imagined it would be. She had to admit that she was more than a little cold given that she was down to her underwear but she knew it was a feeling that wouldn’t last long.

“Is this… am I…”

Ayano got off the bed, the box spring creaking ever so slightly, and reached out to her. Midori felt Ayano’s fingers wrap tightly around hers as her lover smiled gently at her.

“You’re beautiful, trust me. If you’re scared we can stop here; I don’t want to rush you into anything you don’t want to do. Besides,” she winked, “even if this is it I think I’ll have a lot to think about at home, won’t I?”

Midori said nothing and shook her head.

“No, I want to do this, Ayano! We’ve been waiting for a long time. It just took me a while to figure out how I would show you how much I care about you.”

It was Ayano’s turn to remain silent nodding her head as she took her place on Midori’s bed again, one leg crossed over the other.

“Then we’ll go at your pace.”

Nodding once more Midori stood there, arms outstretched and legs apart, as she called out “Magical Girl Pretty Midori transformation sequence!”

“…Wait, what?” Ayano asked, her expression changing from longing to complete confusion as bright, multicolored lights burst forth from Midori, wrapping themselves around her girlfriend and filling the room with a blinding white light. It took Ayano moments to clear her vision with spots dancing before her eyes as she desperately tried to refocus on her girlfriend.

Just what the hell is going on?!

In the center of Midori’s bedroom stood the socially awkward green-haired girl she had fallen in love with but nothing like the one she knew. Clad in a pair of short that left very little to the imagination Midori, with whatever spell she had performed, was now posing dramatically before Ayano in ridiculous looking knee high heel boots with faux fur trim along the edges. The amount of skin that was showing now was almost as much as when she had had next to nothing on given that her midriff was exposed and her top consisted of little else other than an emerald tube that showed off her bust.

“I… don’t understand.”

Midori’s smile was as radiant as the morning sun as she leapt forward and brought Ayano into a tight hug, fingers running gently through her hair.  
“Well, do you like what you see, Ayano?” Midori giggled, batting her eyelashes playfully. “Told you I’d get into something more comfortable!”

“Explain, please, before I end up passing out from shock.”

“I’m a magical girl, silly! You know, defender of young people everywhere, saving the world before bedtime, but never having the courage to ask out the boy I like? Well… guess I don’t meet the last description very well. I have you – and you’re not a boy either.”

“…”

“I really didn’t know how I was going to tell you so I figured once we got to know each other more I’d have to spill the beans at some point. I hope you’re not too scared. I mean, I do my best at keeping monsters away from Akademi though Oka Ruto, that mean old witch, does her best to stop me. But I’m really, really good at my job!”  
“The occult club president has demonic forces at her disposal.”

Midori looked at Ayano as if she had grown a second head.

“Well, yeah, I mean what else would she use? Everything about her is so obviously suited for it. I mean, ‘oka ruto,’” she moved her hands from left then right, “occult. Get it? It’d be weird if she didn’t.”

“Right. Next thing you’ll be telling me is the science club really did manage to build a robot girl.”

“Yeah, but she’s the star of a totally different anime so… no go on a crossover, unfortunately.”

Ayano’s eye twitched as she slowly got off the bed.

“This has been very enlightening, Midori.”

“You’re not… mad?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I was so scared that you were going to not want to be my girlfriend anymore because you could be in danger of being a target for my rogues gallery!”

Ayano threw her hands up into the air as she marched towards the bedroom door.

“H-hey, where are you going?”

“Home. I’m going to try and sleep off whatever the fuck I’m on right now. Call me if you actually want to knock knees later.”

Midori watched Ayano leave and heard her stomp through her home before feeling the vibration of the front hall door opening and slamming shut.

“…Was it something I said?”

~~~

10\. Pregnancy

“Did you hear about Musume Ronshaku?”

Ayano was still trying to determine how she felt about Midori Gurin. As much as she detested the girl’s inability to shut up she had to admit that she had her uses. No one in the school liked her but few had the guts to actually send her away much of the time. As such Midori had become a repository of gossip but, much more importantly than that, had become a source of dirt on Ayano’s fellow students that didn’t require her to risk her academic career taking photos for.

“No, I can’t say I have, Midori. Is there something the matter with her?”

There was plenty wrong with her. Musume Ronshaku was another girl, among the dozens of others, which Ayano could not stand. The ganguro girl physically hurt to look at with her fake, bleached blond hair and awful tan to say nothing of her single digit IQ.

“Weellll… it’s not my place to say but…”

Midori always did this. She couldn’t resist not blathering on about whatever it was that she knew. Ayano knew well just how much the girl could talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk–

Ayano shook the visions of red that had begun to form from her head. If she let it become too personal then she was liable to end up with yet another corpse to hide before the week was up. No use in making more work for herself.

“I heard some of the popular girls, the real snobby ones like Saki Miyu, say that they heard that she was pregnant.”

That was indeed interesting.

“Pregnant?”

Midori rolled her eyes at a speed Ayano didn’t think was possible. She honestly hadn’t expected this level of sass from someone who was so annoyingly inquisitive. Her ‘friend’ used her chopsticks to pick up an octodog from her lunch and stick it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before gulping it down.

“Yeah. With child. In a family way. You know how that happens, right, Ayano?”

“I took sex ed same as you,” Ayano said a little more defensively than she would’ve liked. Granted, the ‘education’ in question had been terrible but it wasn’t as if she had had any interest in such things until recently.

Senpai was such a stud muffin…

“That’s what Saki said. Guess the rest of the Rainbow Ten didn’t know what to think about it. I feel really bad for her, though! I think her dad has a lot of money, so maybe it wouldn’t be too hard to get a doctor to perform a, y’know, abortion,” Midori whispered the phrase as if it were some sort of bad word and Ayano resisted the urge to do an eye roll of her own. “But it’s not her fault, right? I mean, whoever the dad is, it’s his problem too!”

Ayano could care less about which one of their peers had been allowed to wash his burdock root in Musume’s part of the Pacific but her mind was racing with possibilities. Kokona Haruka was an obstacle that needed to be removed, that much she was certain of. The Rainbow Ten as everyone at Akademi knew them as had a weak link it would probably be Ronshaku. She would be the easiest to manipulate and especially so if there was something she could use to hang over her head whether that was by taking advantage of the father or using it help ruin her reputation, Ayano was sure that Ronshaku wouldn’t need much arm twisting if she had a favor or two that needed to be done.

“Yeah. It takes two people, after all. I can’t believe that some of her own friends would turn on her like that for a simple mistake…”

“I know, right? Some people, Ayano,” Midori huffed and angrily popped another piece of her lunch into her mouth, “they just don’t care about anyone’s feelings but theirs. I’m glad you’re my friend; I know you’d never judge me like that – or Devpai, he never says anything bad about me even if I’m really pestering him. Well… maybe not all the time, but you know what I mean.”

“I’m glad that we’re friends too, Midori.”

Talking to Gurin did have its uses after all.


	2. Ayano x Kokona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don’t own Yandere Simulator, friendos.
> 
> Greetings and salutations. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? If anyone is wondering why this wasn’t updated sooner it was because I was in a bit of a writing funk. As such, I felt I owed it to you all to write a much meatier chapter here than the previous one with Midori. Turns out I had quite a bit to say about Kokona anyway (this is actually one of my favorite alternate pairings). Since I think I’ve got some of that mojo back expect an update in the near future for my other project “Sympathy for the Devil” (legend has it that if the planets align right and the omens are read in the entrails that it will be possible to see chapter two before a full year passes in between updates).
> 
> On more thing. I decided to explore the darker aspects of Ayano’s character in two instances here. If hints of sexual abuse or rape are no good for you, just pretend prompt #2 does not exist.
> 
> Thanks for reading, fam.

**Constants and Variables**

Chapter II

Ayano x Kokona

“She says, ‘I am not your enemy.’  
I say, ‘That sounds like something that my enemy would say.’”  
\- Aesop Rock, “Shrunk”

 

  1. **I’m here**



            “Oh! You’re the one who wanted to meet me here?”

            The afternoon sun is warm, inviting, and everything that this conversation will not be, Ayano knows. One wrong word or turn of phrase and Haruka is liable to drop their chat entirely. She cannot feel nervousness – she can barely feel at all – but something approximating it she is sure has settled itself in her chest. It would be so easy to simply push her over the railing and be done with it; so easy to make everything look like an accident if she wanted to.

            “Your note said that you wanted to talk about… domestic abuse?”

            The purple-haired girl is biting her lower lip as she tilts her head to the side questioningly and immediately Ayano is confused. What could she possibly be misunderstanding? The note she had written then stuffed into Haruka’s locker was as straightforward as possible. There had been no use in beating around the bush when it came to something like this and Ayano dared not make it longer to reveal just how little she could truly empathize with her upperclassman.

            “Yes, I heard you talking with Saki. I want to help you with your problem. What is your father doing to you?”

            She scrunches her face in what she desperately hopes is determination as she balls her fists. This is not exactly a topic she has to be inventive on how to respond. The bare amount to show that she ‘cares’ should more than suffice to keep up her charade.

            “Oh… you’ve got it all wrong! My father doesn’t do anything to me!”

            Her fists falter then collapse limply to her sides. Of all the things that Ayano tried to prepare herself mentally for on this meeting, this is not one of them. Haruka was a simple girl with a simple secret or so she had assumed. Fate had allowed her to meet Senpai but it would not be kind twice to her it seemed.

            “Then what does he do when he gets drunk?”

            “He… he… he cries.”

            Haruka herself does not look to be in much better shape. The other girl has tightly wrapped her arms around herself and looks out across the professionally manicured lawn of Akademi towards the shining glass of the gardening club’s greenhouse with a glazed expression.

            “What?”

            “He cries and talks about his debt problems.”

            Ayano would be lying if she were to say that she is not surprised by this information. Akademi was the pride of Buraza Town, one of the highest ranked schools in their prefecture, and its student body consistently had its clubs bringing home an endless parade of trophies or awards. It is not cheap to enroll let alone continue to be a part of Akademi. She is not even really sure how her own parents managed to get her in in the first place.

            “Your father is in debt?”

            “When my mom… when my mom died last year, my family lost a lot of money. My dad took out a loan so that he could continue to pay for my tuition fees but… but it turns out that he borrowed money from some really shady people.”

            Ayano can only stand in awkward silence listening as Haruka spills out her life’s story to her as they watch their would-be lawn care team work. Perhaps this is simply the tipping point for the other girl. After all she did not even reveal this much to Saki and Ayano had traded enough panty shots to Info-chan to know that they had been best friends ever since they could talk.

            “They raise the interest rate by 10% every ten days and they threaten to get violent with him if he doesn’t pay up.”

            Ayano watches her peer grip the cool dark metal of the hand railing so hard that her knuckles have gone white from the strain. This is more than she could have ever hoped for even with the school’s information broker on her side. Sometimes, Ayano has to admit, that it is good to ‘open up’ to other people.

            “I’m trying to help my dad get out of debt. I’m trying to earn money any way I can but the only ways to make money fast are…” Haruka audibly gulps before shakily finishing “…gross.”

            “What’s the name of the business that your father borrowed money from?”

            “Um, I think it’s called Ronshaku Loans.”

            Ayano does not even bother to hide her wide eyed expression as she stares at Haruka’s back. ‘Ronshaku? As in, Musume Ronshaku? The ganguro that hangs on to her little squad?’ For a moment in time Ayano feels something well within her. It is not sadness, anger, or happiness. Senpai brings out those in her and she can at least approximate what they are like in others if she concentrates hard enough, but this…

            It is utterly alien.

            At first Ayano believes that it is sadness, though she has never felt that way towards someone other than Senpai before. In the all-encompassing gray that is her world all problems seem trivial and she can barely muster the effort to fake tears to keep up appearances. Yet that pathetic admission, that very idea that someone so close to Haruka was an indirect cause of not only her suffering but one whose family business reduced her father to an alcoholic wreck, it made her feel…

            Pity.

            Such a strange thing. It was not quite concern but Ayano supposed it might come to the closest she could ever come to it. She had spent days considering how best to rid herself of the drama club member but that had all come to a halt. Pity? Yes, that was it.

            “I’m going to get your father out of debt.”

            The words tumble from Ayano’s mouth before she can stop herself and it makes Haruka whirl around to face her again, eyes wide and mouth agape. What is she even doing?

            “What? No! Please don’t get involved. I doubt there’s anything you could do about it…”

            “You’d be surprised.”

            It is official. Ayano is sure that she has lost the plot. It would be so simple to plant a rumor online and let the student body do the rest. Yet even if she were to choose a fate far less lethal than murder, was there anything that she could do that would be more humiliating than being wined and dined by men old enough to be her father with the expectation she would spread her legs by the night’s end? Ayano’s opinion of humanity was so low that others’ concerns did not even register to her but this…

It was more pathetic than anything else yet its only purpose was for the gratification of the clawing, greedy hands of the refuse that populated Buraza Town’s streets, away from oblivious wives and children old enough to be Haruka herself, and then it would be like a wet dream for them when it was all over. They could go home, clean themselves up, and forget it ever happened. To deprive such a creature comfort to them would be practically rapturous. There was no need to make just one person miserable when she could have the balls of every man who had ever touched Haruka in a vice herself if she freed the debt slave’s daughter.

“I…”

The social butterfly’s face is a mask of so many emotions that Ayano can barely process them before they morph into the next. As she is trying to prepare herself for the inevitable blubbering of thanks on Haruka’s part the girl closes the gap between them and grips Ayano’s back so hard in a bear hug that she wheezes at the contact.

“I don’t think you could. But to know that someone would care enough to at least say that just…”

Haruka has pulled away from her now and she smiles at her so brightly that it makes the sun above them seem dull in comparison.

“Thank you, Ayano.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll get it taken care of, you’ll see. I can’t just sit by and let people destroy themselves.”

That at least is not a lie. Ayano is more than happy to hurt them herself.

  1. **Panic**



Kokona can only fix her captor with a glassy stare by the time she arrives in the basement.

            There is nothing left in her even if she wanted to ask them why they had done what they had done and how long she would be in this prison (if she could ever hope to leave at all). She had spent hours screaming herself hoarse before realizing that the thick concrete walls were not going to let her cries for help be heard by anyone in the outside world. Even her breathing has finally come down several notches from its intense, rhythmic pattern when she had first awoken.

            “I won’t have to wake you up, that’s good.”

            Her kidnapper’s voice is utterly flat but there is sharpness to it just like the surface of a piece of broken glass laid on its side.

            “How was your nap?”

            “W-w-why… why are you doing this?”

            The girl’s dull gaze reminds Kokona of the sharks she saw once when she went to Churaumi Aquarium as a little girl; so devoid of any kind of feeling but predatory all the same.

            “I’ll be asking the questions.”

            “I-it was…”

            Horrible. Sitting for hours on end upright in an uncomfortable metal chair with one’s hands tied behind them with thick, rough rope would do that to anyone.

            “…Fine.”

            “That’s nice. I wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

            The girl stalks forward with slow purposeful steps and Kokona instinctively squirms away from Ayano Aishi as the girl’s footfalls echo through her prison.

            “But with an attitude like that you might not stay that way.”

            Even without any hint of humanity in her tone Kokona can sense the threat all the same. She immediately stops and watches Aishi approach her, her own hands behind her back, as she casually inches toward her. She must have missed at least an entire school day as she is still in her uniform.

            “It’s a shame you couldn’t learn quickly enough to avoid this fate, too, Kokona. What will your parents think when they have to file a missing persons report?”

            “If it’s a ransom you want, I’m sure my father will-”

            The giggle that escapes Aishi’s mouth causes Kokona’s own to dry instantly. There is not even passion within the laughter but it comes from the other girl just the same.

            “I don’t want anyone’s money. I want to teach a lesson.”

            “…and w-w-w-what kind of lesson would that be?”

            Aishi’s eyes narrow and Kokona lowers herself in her seat as far as she can go as the girl takes one of her ringlets in her hands, tugging it so hard that she can feel a few plum strands give way in her iron grip.

            “You will not speak until spoken to.”

            Kokona only nods her eyes brimming with unshed tears as she tries to keep her focus on the madwoman before her. Ayano’s mouth almost imperceptibly moves upwards in a mockery of a smile.

            “…If you behave, though, maybe I’ll change my mind.”

            Aishi moves away from her and to the other side of the room to a small wooden door, plain and white as the walls around them, closing it behind her. Kokona’s eyes move wildly around the room but it offers her just as little means of finding a way out of her predicament as it did hours ago. But it is the first time she notices the thing beneath her.

            Her chair is sitting on an enormous blue tarp. Something that should be so mundane and simple should not fill Kokona with the amount of all-encompassing dread that she feels has crawled into her gut. This is it; there will be no escape. She will be a statistic read with complete detachment by the newscaster the next day, weeks, months from now, perhaps even years. She has no idea what sort of sleight she has committed but it is sure to be her last. Yet despite her impending fate Kokona feels strangely at ease. Perhaps with her out of the way her father will even finally manage to pay off his debt collectors.

            Kokona tries to ignore the mental image of an utterly broken man lighting incense before a picture of her in the family room alongside her mother’s as he shakily claps his hands in prayer.

            Aishi returns as quickly as she left and Kokona’s eyes are greeted with her fellow student pushing an enormous cart out of the door. It, too, is covered though this time with a simple if ugly yellowed sheet. She tries not to focus too much on the fact that it is stained a deep crimson.

            “I’m sure that you want to know why you’re here.”

            Kokona can only meet Aishi’s gaze as she begins to tremble. The other girl wheels the cart over to her chair and stops a few centimeters away from the other girl as she puts her head in one hand and the other on the cart’s bar.

            “’Why me?’ you’re thinking to yourself. You’ve been in a lot of plays, get good grades, try to be friendly to everyone…”

            Aishi spits the last few words at her and Kokona sorely misses her monotone. The sheer frothing _anger_ that emanates from the shorter girl makes her want to crumble away on the spot.

            “…To cap off your perfect life, you even managed to find a boyfriend.”

            Aishi’s eyes meet Kokona’s in that moment. If Kokona were not aware of how much she will not be leaving this house before she certainly is now. Her stalker has no pity upon her face, no sense of remorse for what she has done if she were even capable of that at all. Wordlessly the girl reaches down and throws off the sheet covering the cart she leans on. A soft moan escapes Kokona’s lips as her eyes travel from instrument to instrument: shears, knives, pliers, surgical scalpels, anything and everything that could be used to maim or harm seems to be present.

            ‘If Aishi knows that much, then…’

            Kokona’s eyes travel from her captor to the bloodstained cloth and she barely suppresses the scream that threatens to erupt from her throat. She has no idea how bold Aishi is but if she could get away with stalking her to know so much about her life as well as kidnapping her then there are no limits on what she is willing to do.

            “I promise… I promise I won’t ask any other questions if y-you tell me: d-d-did you hurt Taro Yamada?”

            It is only after she speaks that Kokona realizes just how big a mistake she has made. Aishi’s eye twitches furiously and the girl carefully reaches down to grab a hammer before stomping over to Kokona’s resting place. She wraps and unwraps her fingers around the handle grip, nostrils flaring, as she leans in to face her.

            “If you say Senpai’s name ever again, I will break your legs with this. Do you understand?”

            Kokona’s head nods so fast she almost smacks Aishi in the face as her twin drills bounce wildly about. “O-o-f course. It won’t happen again…”

            “I hope it wasn’t as worthless as your other promise to shut up for your sake.”

            Aishi moves away from her once more and back to her hardware armory. Kokona watches as the girl picks up each weapon carefully, judging its weight and how it feels in her hands, before moving onto the next item. She is sure she is being toyed with; Aishi wants to watch her squirm. The question is not how this will end but only in how the disturbed young woman chooses to go about it.

            “Ah.”

            It’s a small exclamation, as mirthless as Aishi has almost been throughout their entire chat so far, but it fills Kokona with such a sense of dread that she is practically paralyzed on the spot. It is a signal that their game is about to begin but she has already lost. Aishi turns to her gripping a carving knife as she struts over to Kokona. It is at this moment that proverbial dam that she had only been dimly aware of breaks and she can feel the tears begin to fall down her cheeks again.

            Kokona thought she had prepared herself somewhere in her mind for this but it does not do her any good. All of the stories she has read growing up about characters facing their own deaths with dignity seem like just that, stories. Her breathing becomes ragged and panic floods her mind. Sorry. So sorry. Sorry to her father, Taro, Saki, everyone. Sorry for herself. Sorry that her classmates will never figure out they go to school with a monster. Sorry that Aishi will never be caught.

            Aishi’s footsteps have stopped in front of her and Kokona can only barely make out her form in her clouded vision.

            “You know, Kokona… I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about crying that doesn’t work for boys.”

            The tone that Aishi has shifted to makes Kokona almost stop. It is not the placid, unwavering confidence of a criminal who will never face justice or the monster just under the surface she had seen moments ago. This is different, strange, almost as if there has been another hidden part of her that Kokona has not seen yet.

            “When a boy does it, it’s so undignified. They’re supposed to be our protectors. But when a girl does it it’s different.”

            Kokona is now uncomfortably aware of just how close Aishi is to her, a feeling which only intensifies as she feels the other girl’s dainty fingers reach out and grip the sides of her face.

            “I love when a girl’s cheeks get pink, when their noses make them sniffle, how they plead for mercy…”

            Kokona’s eyes meet Aishi’s once more and she wishes she had not. Gone is the emptiness she had seen before; an animal would have been preferable, she is sure. There is an all too human hunger that dances just behind her steel gray eyes.

            “It’s _adorable_.”

            It happens in slow motion. Aishi leans in towards her, eyes half lidded as she leans in. Kokona expects the cool metal of the knife to find some limb but nothing ever arrives, not in her gut, an arm, or head. Instead she watches as Aishi’s tongue snakes out and runs itself over her cheek swirling in place to catch the falling liquid.

            “Sweet and salty. I’m sure you know what that tastes like, don’t you, Kokona?”  
  
            Kokona does not trust herself enough to speak.

            “I know what you and Senpai have been up to together. It was just the other day, wasn’t it? There’s a reason I decided to finally make a move, you whore.”

            Aishi’s tone has dropped so low that Kokona is far less terrified of the knife that has finally made its way to her throat than she is of a verbal escalation.

            “…”

            Aishi tilts her head and that disturbing non-smile that Kokona has come to hate is back on her features as the girl pauses, ever so gently increasing the pressure against her windpipe with the offending blade.

            “He might not understand just how worthless you are, but he would be upset if I were to do too much damage to you.”

            “T-then why even bring me here?”

            The younger student removes the knife from her neck and Kokona takes a moment to breathe in deeply as Aishi waves it at her.

            “Finally, a smart question. Why indeed?”

            It is at this moment that Kokona becomes aware, with the gentle motion of the lifting her school skirt, of where Aishi’s other hand has gone.

            “Senpai is mine. So that makes you…”

            Kokona has begun to strain so much that the ropes are cutting deeply into her wrists. Her voice barely sounds recognizable to her as she squeaks out a reply.

            “…Yours. B-b-but I don’t like-”

            Despite the warmth of the other girl her fingers feel ice cold as they gently work their way at a snail’s pace up her inner thigh.

            “I do.”

  1. **Decay**



            It had been three days since Kokona had last seen the kitten wandering around Akademi’s grounds mewling inconsolably when he was not pet or given anything by the passing student body to eat. She had figured he would turn up sooner or later; he could come and go as much as he pleased. Feral animals had no particular loyalty to any one given area, after all. Yet if he had not been muscled out by local tomcats around town in the first few months or his own boredom Kokona had figured that he would become a permanent fixture on the school ground. She desperately wanted it to be the case of course. Kokona had never owned a pet due to her father’s allergies.

            It was to her utter despair that she had discovered the cat at last hidden underneath the bleachers on Monday during physical education.

            She and Saki had stopped to talk to catch their breaths and had taken their seats towards the ground railing when her best friend had complained about a particularly disgusting smell coming from somewhere underneath them. After both of them had initially played it off by asking if the other had eaten something that had disagreed with them the other night they had become more concerned when the stench continued, its pungent, almost garbage-like odor continuing to persist as they chatted about their teacher or whatever drama they had caught on TV the other night. When Kokona could not stand it anymore she had gotten up and bent down to investigate whatever it was that reeked so badly it had begun to make her eyes water. In hindsight she wished she had just ignored it.

            Kokona had resisted the urge to scream as he bent down and looked into the dim light under the metallic benches. There, not far from the steps leading towards their seats was her furry friend. His round little face had been almost completely smashed in, bone and brain matter poking through his gray fur, with his left eye nowhere to be found. Paws that had once waved about as she rubbed his stomach were bent at strange angles while his tail had been practically ripped off. Kokona can feel nausea welling within her as she gazes at the squirming maggots that had nestled in his completely caved in side dancing about in the corpse’s flesh.

            Pulling herself up she had stumbled away from the offending sight and promptly vomited on part of the track as Saki gave a confused, “huh?” in her direction.

            “Just… take a look. Or don’t. Maybe that’s for the best.”

            “Did you find out what it was?”

            “…Yeah. I think I know what happened to the cat.”

            Wordlessly Saki move towards her and pulls her into a comforting hug. It is one of the things she likes best about the other girl; they have been good enough friends for so long she does not even have to explain what she means most of the time.

            “I’m really sorry, Kokona. I know how much you liked him.”

            She is not as sad as she thought she would be. No, the only thing that fills her mind (well, other than disgust) is anger. It would have been one thing had it been an accident or from some predator. That would have been an excusable if cruel fate for him. But the fact his body was hidden, the level of brutality… it had been premeditated. Someone had to have lured him over, stroked his silky fur, listened to his cries of happiness and snuffed his life out anyway.

            “What kind of monster does something like that, Saki?”

            “Some people just aren’t right upstairs, Kokona,” Saki taps the side of her forehead for emphasis as she looks helplessly at her. “C’mon, I think we should get out of here. We should probably go tell Ms. Taisho about it.”

            “Yeah,” Kokona whispers softly. “It’s not like we can do anything for him now anyway.”

            They almost fail to notice the gray-haired girl awkwardly shuffling by the bleachers as they turn to leave but Kokona stops herself. Just because she and Saki had had to endure the discovery did not mean others had to as well. It was not as if the cat was Kokona’s either; he had been everyone’s friend. The other students deserved to know.

            “Hey,” Kokona calls out gently. The other girl freezes in place and casts her gaze only briefly towards her before apparently finding the ground a much more interesting subject. “I wouldn’t sit there if I were you. Something’s rotting under there. It… it looks like Kutsushita.”

            “Really,” the girl’s voice is devoid of anything even resembling attachment. “That’s unfortunate.”

            Kokona scrutinizes the other girl a little more closely but cannot place where she has seen her before. Her hair matches her eyes, the color of a heavy storm cloud, and the girl acts terribly strange. She practically dances in place as Kokona hovers near her. The mysterious student certainly was not in her grade, she was sure of that. She was sure she would be able to remember such a flat affect on someone if they were. One of her underclassmen then?

            “Yeah,” Kokona agreed. “It is. Some sick jerk…” she breathes in to ward off the sadness she is desperately trying to keep at bay from overwhelming her, “…got him. We’re gonna go report it to the teachers or the guidance counselor. I hope they find the bastard who did it and he gets what’s coming to him.”

            “Justice comes to those who deserve it,” the introverted girl mumbles.

            “Let other people know if you see them, alright? Maybe if more people can remember what they were doing last week we can figure out what happened sooner.”

            “Of course, Senpai,” the girl whispers and Kokona waits a moment or two for a further response. She looks at Saki who only shrugs her shoulders. Not everyone is friendly, as much as Kokona would like it otherwise, and she certainly cannot force the girl to talk more if she does not want to. “Thanks,” she gives the other girl a smile and leaves her there. The other girl just furiously blushes before awkwardly waving them goodbye as they walk away.

            As they are walking towards the locker rooms Saki says something that breaks the silence.

            “…Don’t second years have their P.E. classes later in the day? What was she doing out there?”

            Kokona looks briefly at the scars on her arm, a last parting gift from Kutsushita when she had been scratching him a little too eagerly on their last lunch break together, before rolling her eyes. “Who knows? She probably just forgot something out there from the other day, that’s all.”

  1. **Dismiss**



            Of all the things that Ayano could have said ‘yes’ to, she has asked herself every hour why she had said it to Musume Ronshaku’s invitation to her house party.

            It was as stereotypical a get together as could be imagined for the weekend: absentee parents who had gone out of town to meet business associates leaving their latch key child behind with the expectation that nothing untoward would be done in their absence only to have that broken as soon as they had boarded the plane. Alcohol would flow as freely as poor decisions on Saturday evening though Ayano had managed to mostly keep to herself so far. Half the reason she is sure that Ronshaku asked her at all was for the simple fact that she wanted her party to be quote unquote “epic.”

            There is absolutely nothing that interests her at this event (not that home would be much better but at least there she does not have to worry about looking like an idiot). She does not drink, has no food preferences, and she would rather take a long walk off of Akademi’s roof than to talk with her fellow students. Not that anyone was really expecting her to sociable, of course. She was Ayano the shut-in and that was just the way she liked things.

            At first Ayano thought she would just show up for politeness’ sake to maintain the bare minimum of respectability for not having turned down Ronshaku then leave the first excuse she found. None had manifested yet. If her parents were too conservative for her to be allowed to go, why had she said yes in the first place? If she did not really drink then there were plenty of things to do. Other obligations would not really work as she was painfully aware everyone understood she was not part of anything outside of academics. Dancing was not really an issue either given that all she needed was some liquid courage to loosen up a bit.

            So she had sat awkwardly on the couch for a while watching everyone make an idiot of themselves. It was not amusing – she could not understand humor – but it was at least something to do as she tapped her fingers against the simple floral dress she had drug out of her closet to wear. Even that had grown tiresome when she had decided to excuse herself to go to the restroom and had to deal with Budo Masuta accidentally flashing her before his fumbling hands managed to find the zipper to his khakis.

            Ayano had had enough at that point, and was making a beeline for the front door, hoping that no one would notice her attempted tactical retreat, when someone’s arm had reached out for her shoulder. She could recognize the tan anywhere…

            “Like oh em gee! I’m so glad you made it, Ayano!”

            This is one of those moments where she wishes she could wither away on the spot.

            “H-hi Musume…”

            “Are you having fun so far?”

            “It’s been a blast, yeah.”

            “Well, if you’re not in a rush, then I think you’re going to **really** like what’s next.”

            Before she can even respond, Ronshaku’s grip tightens even further and she is practically yanked off of her feet by the socialite. Steering her from room to room Ayano has barely enough time to glance around the elaborate mansion’s various knickknacks, which range from family portraits to what she thinks might be an actual katana, as the dim lights and reverberating techno beat give the house an almost hypnotic feel.

            “Uh, where are we going, Musume…?”

            “You’ll see. It’ll be lots of fun, I promise.”

            Ayano does not like the sound of that. Not at all.

            They finally arrive at a glass door which the heiress slides open onto a porch. She beckons for Ayano to come out further as the girl practically twirls into the room filled with about a dozen people all sitting in an enormous circle.

            “Got the last player, you guys. Ayano take a seat next to Fureddo there. Let’s get this started!”

            Ayano gently scoots herself in place next to the blond haired, blue eyed boy who gives her a meek wave. It seems as if she was not the only person roped into this event, whatever it is, tonight either. She watches as the tanned girl moves into the center of the group and withdraws a beer bottle from behind her back.

            “You all know what this is, right?”

            There are some slurred murmurs of acknowledgement while others just sort of glance at one another, Ayano among them.

            “Aw, jeez, you guys. Haven’t you ever heard of spin the bottle before?”

            Ayano watches the reactions of her fellow partygoers with interest. Some of them, mostly the boys hoot and holler a bit while the girls bashfully look at the floor. Perplexed she leans forward as the girl’s smirk seems to glow underneath the lit candles that sit along the porch’s windows.

            “Sounds like it’s not the first time for some of you. For the uninitiated, the rules are simple. Spin the bottle and you’ve gotta kiss the person who it lands on. No exceptions. Let’s get started!”

            Ayano is not sure what it says about her that she is less surprised at being drawn into a game for horny teenagers unwillingly than she is of the fact that Ronshaku knows what the word ‘uninitiated’ means.

            It is only once Ronshaku spins the bottle first and lands on Ryuto that Ayano understands the gravity of what she has been dragged into. She watches as the ganguro’s face crumples into a frown and the otaku’s into a sly grin as they press their lips together all while she sorely regrets not being forceful in leaving. This is not what she wants to do; not at all. If word gets out that she was doing this by Monday and especially if something happens that could be seen as too compromising…

            No one will be willing to stick up for Ayano’s reputation, of that she is sure.

            The brown bottle goes around and around the circle as each person takes their turn making out with whatever poor target they receive. The evening’s most eventful activity happens to be when Gema and Geija, the presidents of the gaming and art clubs respectively, had to do the deed about what Ayano can only believe is a half an hour into this torture. Gema looked as if his mouth had just bit into a lemon while Geija looked as if he might pass out. Their kiss had been brief – a quick peck before they scrambled back to their respective sides as Gema almost tripped over Pippi getting back to his seat – causing the group to roar with laughter. Ayano did not see what the big deal had been. A kiss was just two people exchanging saliva to show affection, one of the most objectively strange ways to do so she thought, so what did it matter that it was between two people of the same gender? At the very least Tsuka and Taku would not have her participating in the jeering they would receive back at school next week.

            “Alright, Ayano. You’re up.”

            Ayano cannot feel. She can identify emotions in others but it seems impossible for her to summon them herself. She has tried all her life to do so with no such luck. Even then she is sure that she is giving Ronshaku her best nervous mask possible as the other girl rolls her eyes and gets up off of the floor across from her.

            “No need to be scared, silly. We’re all friends here.”

            Ayano crawls forward and places a slightly shaking hand on the bottle before giving it a rip. It swishes wildly as she sits seiza style before it. She watches it swish through the air, gazing at everyone in attendance. No one is paying attention to her she notices. They are all either lost in their own conversations or looking at somewhere, anywhere, but her. Perhaps Ayano had been wrong, perhaps even if she totally embarrasses herself tonight no one is going to notice or care. It is only then she looks down and sees where the bottle has stopped itself. Her eyes travel slowly upwards from the glass neck to where it has pointed and she instantly regrets ever coming to this stupid, stupid party.

            A very sauced looking Kokona Haruka is also giving a buzzed, uncomprehending smile down at the offending object. This is not something to be happy about; she is one of the most, if not the, single most popular girl in school and she is about to lock lips with a wallflower. Ayano becomes suddenly aware of just how ragged her own breathing is as Ronshaku gives her such a devilish look that she has to fight the urge to reach out, grab the bottle, and bash her face in with it.

            “Ooh…”

            Now she has everyone’s attention. Ayano watches as everyone looks from the bottle, back to her, then to Haruka. Despite the buzzing of insects outside the air seems deathly quiet within their circle as Ayano gingerly picks herself up off of the floor and wobbless one foot forward at a time towards her target. She watches Saki Miyu give her a withering look as she gently plops herself in front of the taller girl.

            “Ahm I up yeht?”

            “Y-yeah. I-I’m… I’m the one who spun.”

            “Oh! Dash great!”

            Haruka’s eyes are quite red whether from practice at underage binge drinking or this being her first time Ayano does not know and could care less if she did. Her perfume is a nice if unidentifiable scent and her breath does not smell terrible.

            ‘Don’t make this–

            “Ah don’t got all night, cutie pie!” Haruka says as she closes her eyes and comically smacks her lips together, giggling in between.

            ‘–Weird.’

            There is no getting out of this, Ayano knows. Even if she were to cite a case of nerves, the girls would never miss a chance to potentially rub it in later and the guys will not want to miss their little (Ayano shudders to herself) make out session. She was right all along; they would never let her live it down if she were to get up and run now.

            ‘If everyone is watching, though…’

            An idea forms in her head, a bit of reverse psychology that she hopes to Ebisu Himself will work because Ayano does not know if she can survive any more social anxiety tonight if it does not. If theatrics is what they all want to see then it will be what they are going to get.

            She grips the sides of Haruka’s tan blouse and yanks the girl forward so hard and fast that their faces practically smack together as she finds the other girl’s mouth. She eases her tongue in slowly, letting Haruka guide her entrance as she gently presses her lips against her upperclassman’s. Their tongues swirl together, Ayano’s playfully darting about – or at least what she hopes is playful – as she begins to probe deeper into the lilac girl’s throat. She even lets the other girl do the reverse though her movements are far less finessed than Ayano’s were and she ends up licking her teeth more than once as Ayano steers her back on course. They are only with one another for seconds but it seems as if each is an hour as Ayano withdraws first, gently nibbling on the other girl’s lower lip on her way out. The single strand of spit left dangling between them she uses a finger to break as she pulls back is the only evidence of what they have just done  and Ayano disturbingly notes that Haruka actually **whines** a little when she stands to move back to her own seat.

            ‘There’s no way they won’t let me go home now.’

            The room is as still and uncertain as when they began but the atmosphere is remarkably different. Before, it was simple curiosity if she would chicken out, but now she knows that she was successful in her gambit. There is not a single person whose attention is not on her as Ayano looks around to meet all of their gazes. Many of the boys are sitting awkwardly, trying to hide their desire (and for the second time tonight she sees what makes Masuta so popular with the girls at school), while others don’t even bother. Even girls like Saki Miyu, whose sour disposition at her faux exhibitionist behavior moments ago had her considering turning tail and fleeing, can only look at her with what she thinks is respect.

            Haruka, for her part, is none too subtly batting her eyelashes and Ayano desperately wants to look anywhere but her.

            “I think I’m gonna go for the night, if that’s okay, Musume.”

            The rich girl can only nod at her dumbly as Ayano picks herself up and turns towards the glass door for her to leave the porch. She has done it; it took all of her courage to do it, and not a little amount of trepidation on her part, but she managed to get out of a party without causing too much of a ruckus. She is about to reach for the handle when a voice behind her stops her.

            “H-hey, Ayano? There’s a party I’m having next week…”

            Then another.

            “Yeah! Me too! I hope you could make it to that one…”

            Then another after that too.

            “I’m sure you’re busy and all, but there’s this thing that’s come up for me too…”

            ‘Gods damnit.’

  1. **Settle**



            Ayano watches the other girl with curiosity as she hands her a prop knife and moves away from her back onto the drama club stage.

            “Stand… oh, well, right there is actually fine, Ayano.”

            Kokona Haruka has been busy for the last twenty minutes or so dragging this or that onto the stage as she tries to recreate whatever play they will be putting on later this year. Even if Ayano could remember the title it is not like it would matter to her. Normally, she would be more than willing to do something like this for someone like Haruka (well, more that she would not care in the least if she killed some of the time before first period) but today was different.

            Today on the way to school Ayano had encountered a boy, the sort of boy whom Ayano had her mother whisper about underneath her breath to her when she thought that her father was not listening in on their conservations. It had been like seeing color for the first time when she had gazed at him, everything bursting before her eyes as he gently pulled her up and asked if she was okay from the fall he had helped to accidentally cause. She did not know anything about him, not what he was like, what his name was, what his interests were but she had felt something stir deep within her.

            _Ayano Aishi had felt something_.

            “Hello?”

            Ayano snapped to the present as she looked dazedly at the mauve-haired understudy.

            “Sorry, what?”

            “I asked you if you wanted to get started, Ayano.”

            “Uh, yeah. Of course.”

            Ayano did not know if what she had felt for the boy could be called ‘love.’ The description that she had always read stated that it was a multifaceted thing, filled with sexual attraction, happiness, mutual respect, and much more. The boy, whoever he was, had not stirred in her any of that – yet. But try as she might Ayano could not stop thinking and replaying the morning’s events over and over in her mind.

            “Great! Now, to set the scene, we’re in the last act of the play. The killer has eliminated everyone who might stand in his way and the detective, that’s me, is hot on his trail. You’re chasing me down an alleyway in Kamagasaki…”

            But she had seen more than just that strange feeling of pleasantries when he looked at her, his face a mask of concern as he reached down to help her up off the ground and right her bike. No matter the fact that he had likely been hurt far worse by their collision than she was he had not seemed to care whatsoever for his own safety.

            Ayano could have lived forever in that moment with the boy, an upperclassman judging by the fact that she had no idea who he was, though there was plenty about Akademi’s cliques she did not understand or care to learn about. But the shrill harpy that had come along had ruined it all, her long ponytails swaying behind her as she yanked Ayano’s savior away from her and down the street, berating him that he was an idiot for not looking more closely where he was going and how this was the absolute last time she was going to tolerate him being late to pick her up in the morning. That had stirred another thing within her, a dark, ugly thing that had whispered to her that it would be so much easier to…

            “That’s what the knife is for then?”

            “Right. Bad news for me is that you’re going to catch up and gut me like a fish at the market.”

            “…Dark.”

            “Yeah, but life’s not always fair, you know? The play is sort of about how we can shape our own fate in ways we don’t expect, even if it’s not for the better. The detective would have been more helpful to the investigation if she had just stayed retired and not gone out to help with the field work again.”

            There was no way Ayano would ever consider doing that. She had taken a stray’s life once and had felt completely empty when she had done so.  No satisfaction but no remorse either. A human was not like a cat; others noticed when they went missing and she is sure that the girl must have been close to the boy if she could treat him like that and get away with it.

            “Thanks again for helping me with everything, Ayano. Kizana should be the one here trying to direct everyone but, well, it looks like it falls to me to make sure everything gets set up for the club meeting later. Again.”

            “Don’t worry about it. I like helping people who need it.”

            Yet that feeling of what she could only describe as rage had not left her the entire walk to school. So what if the girl knew him intimately enough that she could be a bitch like that and he would not even bat an eye at it? What right did she have? Ayano was sure she could see just how much the boy cared; there was no reason she could see for treating him like something you would scrape off of the bottom of your shoe. If anything, it was the girl who was the worthless one. If there were more people like that boy in the world, someone who could bring out emotions even in her, then it would be a better place.

            “I’ve got you cornered, monster. There’s nowhere for you to run or hide here. It’s just you and me.”

            “You’ve come here all alone, detective? You’re a smarter girl than that. You should know better…”

            Kokona gasps dramatically writhing on the floor as Ayano pretends to stick the fake blade into her. She can only imagine what it would be like to really stick a weapon into Kokona and watch her bleed out for real, her  eyes becoming glassy and unfocused as she slowly stops moving, tangling herself in her ridiculously long orange hair never to bother her or her Senpai ever again.

            Wait, what is she even saying?

            Stabbing that girl to death would be too honorable. There are surely far more appropriate forms of punishment available if she decides to think about it hard enough.

  1. **Tide**



            “How about here, Ayano?”

            Kokona tilts her head questioningly at her companion as she looks out towards the crowded beach. Of all the times of the year, why had Akademi decided that it would be a good idea to choose Shisuta Town’s beach as a vacation spot? Spring break was one of the busiest holiday rushes of the year for the seaside hamlet and the droves of strangers about them bore that out. Kokona did not even want to imagine what the base prices for staying at the hotels must have been like; even with the fundraisers the clubs had to come up with, it would never been enough to cover all the costs necessary to stay there for the weekend. Headmaster Shuyona Kokona thought, despite what some chose to speculate on how he kept the school’s finances afloat, seemed like a kind man.

            Though not asking how he had pulled it off worked just as well. Not knowing was Buddha, after all.

            “If you want to.”

            They are practically right up against the Pacific itself but all of the other spots that they could have taken are being squatted on by their classmates or random beachgoers. Kokona is sure they are lucky to even be able to find a spot to put their towels down at all given the mob.

            “It’s not like we’re going to have much of a choice, I think.”

            Ayano manages to catch up with her at last, stopping to adjust a strap of her bone white bikini top, and Kokona reaches for the umbrella that the girl is carrying setting down her towel along with the picnic basket they have brought with them. She struggles with the latch for a few moments before triumphantly popping open the umbrella and setting it down next to them as they both sit on the beach’s balmy sand together.

            “I wish we weren’t so close.”

            Kokona follows Ayano’s stare out across the shoreline to the far reaches of the horizon. It had been with much hand wringing that Kokona had admitted to Ayano she could not swim and ever since her fellow student had fretted anxiously about the possibility of setting up near the ocean. Now that fear was a reality. Concern is etched on every corner of Ayano’s normally calm face, her usually unfocused gaze on high alert as she glances from Kokona and back to the offending body of water.

            “I’ll be fine, swe – Ayano.”

            This does not help to brighten Ayano’s mood either as the girl’s frown only deepens at her correction. The frustration and fear in her expression says more in response to Kokona than words could. Ayano is a girl who does not express herself often and it is a challenge for Kokona at the best of times to get her to open up. If this is how the day is going to start out then she can probably look forward to talking to a wall for the rest of their time here with her girlfriend.

            Girlfriend.

            Kokona still has trouble admitting it and she knows that it annoys Ayano to no end. Losing Saki as a friend had hurt but her parents had not been anything but proud of her. Ayano’s had been another story even if the reactions of both parties had been a complete surprise. Her mother had been the one to be supportive while her father had groused for some time that his daughter had brought a woman home with her but he had relented in the end. Poor Mr. Aishi. He looked as if he needed a hug half the time Kokona was present at Ayano’s house though she did not have the courage to ask her just how stable their marriage really was.

            Mrs. Aishi seemed just a little too pleasant to have that be what she really felt on the inside, though Kokona never said that aloud.

            “Hey.”

            She reaches over gently and takes Ayano’s pale hand in hers. The girl recoils at the touch and sidles away from her, tucking her hands underneath her and trying to dig through the earth with her scowl. “Look…” Kokona starts, unsure of what to lead their conservation with. Ayano can be overprotective to a fault and she knows that if she is not careful she will be dealing with a brick wall the entire afternoon.

            “I’m sorry, alright? I’m just getting used to things, that’s all.”

            Kokona had never had a problem snagging boys, not when she was younger and certainly not after she had hit puberty that was for certain. But being with another girl was something else entirely. She had understood all the etiquette with men; they made the first move, were supposed to pay for dates, supposed to be the forward ones in questions of passion or decision making. She had agreed with none of that but it was at least a blueprint for how to move forward. With Ayano there was nothing and, though she would never tell her, the bashful junior student who had put a note into her locker asking her to meet her under the sakura tree on the hill had only caught her attention as she had initially assumed that it was some kind of prank.

            It had been the sheer earnestness on the other girl’s face that had gotten her to tentatively say ‘yes’ to her confession. It was brave. Kokona was one of Akademi’s most popular students modesty aside and she is sure so many others would have laughed in the strange, quiet girl’s face. She will never forget the wide smile that had split over Ayano’s normally sullen features as she leapt forward onto her, thanking her over and over again. Kokona had always found other girls beautiful – her agreeing to go out with her junior was not solely done out of guilt and respect – but it had been low key. Attraction from one woman to another or one man to another was simply not done, not talked about, and her own answer was as spur of the movement as going in the first place. It was a bad habit of hers, she knew, when she was put on the spot.

            “I know you’re just trying to look out for me. I get it, I do. Sometimes you just have to relax a little, though, Yan-chan. It’s not healthy to be so high strung all the time.” She watches the other girl’s lips ever so slightly upwards. The other girl cannot resist her pet name and with a reaction like that Kokona is sure she will come around sooner rather than later. All she has to do is ride out the tempest and it will be smooth sailing.

            She has not even complimented her on her swimwear yet, a yellow bikini with pink polka dots that she chose as it leaves as little to the imagination as possible without losing its modesty.

            Satisfied with mollifying the other girl Kokona turns back to her blue-and-white striped beach towel and lies down on her back. Though they had only gotten up just little under an hour ago, the pleasant sun and gentle wind were enough to make her want to use the soft sand and towel beneath her a makeshift bed. Yet just as she is about to drift off to sleep she can hear the soft ‘woosh’ of displaced sand next to her and she does not even have to open her eyes to know who the sound’s creator is.

            “Yan-chan, would you mind reaching into the bag? I’m sure there’s sun screen in there somewhere. Would you mind putting it on?”

            Ayano does not even bother to hide the hitch in her breath as she opens the bag and pulls out the bottle. Kokona hears the squelching sound of the liquid being spat out and in moments she feels the other girl’s shaking hands start at her legs.

            “Just make sure you get everything, alright? Saki always missed spots and I sure don’t want to get patches of sunburns all over me…”

            “Yeah.”

            Ayano does not stutter, she never does, but the girl is certainly flustered. Her less-than-10 word sentences are typical for her and it is a rarity to hear her ever go beyond that number. She supposes it is only natural for her. So far as she is aware there has never been anyone else in her life; Kokona is the first person that she has ever expressed any sort of interest in at all. What they are doing now, tame as it is, is the most intimate physical contact she has ever had with someone. Kokona is sure of that (not that it stops her noticing Ayano’s hands linger a little too long on her rear before moving up her lower back).

            When Ayano gets to her shoulder blades and neck, Kokona begins to stir and turn over just as she can feel her paramour practically trip over herself to give each of them a healthy distance from one another. The soft thump of something hitting the sand beside her causes her to open her eyes. Ayano stands about 91 centimeters away from her, her eyes downcast as she holds her hands strangely at her sides, desperately trying to look anywhere but Kokona.

            “Uh… I don’t think doing one side really counts, Ayano.”

            Kokona waits a moment or two for her to come back to her before she sits up, eying the other girl as she reaches out to grab the bottle herself.

            “Look, this is nothing to be ashamed of, alright? No one here is going to care.”

            Ayano shuffles forward slightly. That is progress at least.

            “I mean even if they did, it’s not like you’d let them give us any trouble, would you?”

            It is a naked appeal to Ayano’s ego, Kokona knows, but she hopes that it will at least entice her enough to get near her again. To her surprise her girlfriend does not take the bait. She gives her a strained look, as if she is trying to put whatever jumble of thoughts is in her head to words, but it simply results in her biting her lower lip and kicking up the sand around her feet.

            “Right, Ayano?”

            Kokona will not let her get out of answering this.

            “Won’t let them hurt us,” Ayano pauses. “You. Love you.”

            Eight words in total. A new record for today.

            “I love you too, Yan-chan.”

            That does the trick. The dark-haired girl beams at her, skipping slightly as she skids to a stop beside the towel. Ayano reaches over and practically rips the bottle out of her hands before lathering them up with the sticky substance and waits expectantly for her to lay flat.

            “Maybe when you’re finished we’ll do you next, hm? You’ll need this way more than I do. You’re paler than a _noh_ mask, you know that?”

            The shade that Ayano’s face has turned would put red bean paste to shame. “If you want to, Senpai.” It is a formal title that has no place between them but Ayano often slips into it just the same. Kokona has never bothered to ask her why either. It is just another quirk that makes Ayano’s company uniquely enjoyable.

            So lost are the both of them in conversation that neither of them notices the wave behind them. It hits suddenly, spraying the Pacific’s cool water all over their encampment. She can feel Ayano practically throw herself onto her to prevent her from being dragged off with the receding tide as it slinks back as quickly as it had made itself known. Kokona watches disheartened as their picnic basket travels with the current before being swallowed up in the shallows and their umbrella has given up the ghost of standing upright. The only thing that remains at all is their fought over bottle of sunscreen and the completely soaked towel underneath them. She gently nudges Ayano off of her and they sit together in total silence for what seems like an eternity before she speaks again.

            “Ayano?”

            “Yes?”

            “Next year, let’s go to Tokyo instead.”

  1. **Union**



Ayano watches from a safe distance as Riku and Kokona make stop-and-go small talk with each other, eyes darting about anywhere but each other, lost in the swirling blossoms that seem to perpetually drop from the sakura tree they stand under. She has been waiting all week for this moment; perhaps she will treat herself tonight to a volume of _Life Note_ in celebration. It is all on Riku now even as she stares daggers into his back think-ordering him to say things just right so that it all falls into place. There is no ear piece now. Just him and his boring self trying to make the moves on one of the most attractive girls in school. He has memorized enough of the compliments she had fed him at this point to know what excites her or strokes Kokona’s ego the right way. There is no way he would not be able to charm her.

            It is a strange feeling, Ayano thinks, that she has managed to get someone else this far. All of her experience with personal relationships has come from manga, anime, and video games but it had allowed her to come out on top. There was no dating sim she could not conquer but she had understood that it stopped at a certain point. Perhaps it would give a basis on how to begin improving one’s chances but they were certainly not guidelines. Or that was what she had thought anyway. Every canned line about Kokona’s eyes or hair being just the right color, babbling about whatever random thing they had learned about in the library together after class, or regaling her with a fake story on why he had decided to get a piercing had done the trick after all.

            Riku carefully leans forward and put his hand on Kokona’s cheek, gazing at her as the sun casts the normally pale green of the hill the tree sits atop in an almost fairy tale-esque golden hue. Is this what beauty is? Ayano has no idea but she thinks that it is something Senpai would probably like when they declare their undying love for one another here. She has seen the endless pictures of roaring waterfalls and snow-capped mountains he posts on his social media page to know that it would be something he would treasure as much as her.

            She mumbles something at him, nodding her head so rapidly that it becomes a purple blur, and Ayano can only wonder if she will be as alive as Kokona seems to be (no, it will be better, because her joy will not have been plotted and manufactured but _real_ ). She had to admit that it had been fun moving pawns around as if they were a giant checkerboard. A led to B which gave you C while D or E were obstacles to be overcome. Matchmaking had proven itself an interesting puzzle and unlike her games it actually mattered outside of the cartridge or disc it was read from. At worst she would have failed her ‘client’ and they would have to find someone else; if she won then it was one more person that she could cross off the list of rivals who had seemed to crawl out of the woodwork eager to steal away Senpai’s heart for themselves.

            They are selfish.

            Ayano is not.

            She knows what his favorite band his, his favorite film, his favorite food, how he chews his pencils in thought (after the 3rd bite) before answering a test, what specific spot he likes to sit at in the courtyard, how many steps it takes him to reach his house, and so much more. She is more aware of what sort of person he is then he probably does. She could have what her mother has: a whipped slave of a man who does her bidding because he is frightened to fail but it has no appeal to her. Ayano wants smiles directed only at her and no one else, kisses and hugs that are meant to lead to more risqué things not because he is expected to but because he wants to touch her in that way, declarations of affection in the morning, day, and night.

            This is what Riku and Kokona will have, Ayano realizes, if they can make it last. Their chances are slim; hormones are rarely a solid foundation to build a relationship on but that is out of her hands now. She watches the couple embrace slowly and their mouths meet for only a few seconds. Riku yanks himself back and tries to push his overeager nature aside while Kokona just smiles stupidly at him. Ayano thinks of all the compliments that Riku will receive on how suave he has been and can only imagine what Haruka’s reaction would be if someone told her she had effectively fallen in love with the girl who had held his hand along the way.

            As she finally takes her cue to turn her back on her protégé she feels a weight lift itself from her shoulders. She has gotten rid of someone without spilling a single drop of blood. There had been no need for complicated logistics on where to hide a body or how to cover her tracks from the police. What had she even been thinking before? Senpai would never love someone who took a life, too pure for the very same world where Ayano almost ended up finding a way to rid herself of Kokona permanently, but that did not matter. It was all in the past and somewhere she likes to think that she has done her browbeaten old man proud.

  1. **Contempt**



            The endless bleating of the girl sitting in front of her on the living room couch has burned a hole long enough in Ayano’s ear. She has spent all week getting to know the girl, spying on her when she could have been watching Senpai, dogging her every moment of the day to figure out just what made her tick. The girl is neither special nor complex; Kokona Haruka is as relentlessly uninteresting as any of her circle of friends is. A father who cannot make ends meet, a girl who has to turn to a life of questionable activity to support both of them, a dead mother – all clichés right out of the pages of the manga that line the shelves in her room.

            Indeed, what Ayano is about to do is something of a mercy, if she were to be charitable about it.

            Haruka has not even noticed that she has not gotten back into her seat as she mentions how oh so glad she is that she will not have to turn tricks anymore on seedy web sites to earn money. She does not even realize the danger she is in as her eyes linger on every object but her host. Perhaps it is out of simple politeness that she is not inquiring on why Ayano has felt the need to get out of her seat or perhaps she thinks it is for something mundane like putting on water for tea. Even as fun as scalding the girl in boiling water would be Ayano has a rather different, more intimate end in mind for her would-be rival.

            A blade would be flashy but noticeable and would leave a lot of evidence behind. There are times and places for cutting up one’s victims but this will not be one of them. There is no need to make life more difficult for herself by making a blood-spattered crime scene photo out of the main floor. Poison would work but also be traceable if she were not careful enough and Ayano is not sure she trusts herself yet to properly mix the right amount to ensure Haruka would simply not wake up later to tattle on what she had done.

            But wire is small, easy to hide inside one’s school uniform, and once it conforms to a shape is hard to remove without the proper equipment.

            Ayano has gone to great lengths to determine if Kokona participated in any kind of physical activity after or even out of school. Except for her nightly rendezvous she is glad to know that daily exercise is not something she will have to factor in at all; it will make their inevitable struggle short but sweet. Quietly as she can Ayano holds the wire taut in between her hands as she bends down past Haruka’s head and pulls it across her throat, crossing the two ends, and pulls back.

            She notes that it takes a moment for Haruka’s life story to stop and the gagging to begin as the other girl quickly rushes her fingers to her throat, desperately clawing at the black material now choking her. Her head rolls back, eyes confused, scared, and above all shocked that she has been betrayed in such a spectacular fashion. Her eyes look like ping pong balls as she gags beneath Ayano, tongue lolling to the side as she wheezes and coughs.

            It is not as easy as it looks in movies, of course. There is no immediate collapse of Haruka into the soft embrace of the couch or flopping onto the ground before her. She struggles as much as she able even if Ayano can keep an appropriate distance, eyes uncaring and distant, but patient as she needs to be for this to work. She has waited all week for this so what is a few minutes more? The process for Haruka’s death is a gradual one. Eventually she begins to slow down as her lungs burn for sweet, sweet air she has lost due to her hyperventilating. Her movements get more and more sluggish as Ayano watches her hands sink down towards Haruka’s lap and at last the girl sits utterly still on the furniture in front of her.

            If it would not get her caught, Ayano would take a photo of her handiwork today with her phone or even an old Polaroid. A moment like this deserves to be preserved in time as a memento on the first step towards her life’s journey with Senpai. The adrenaline coursing through her feels wonderful as she hoists up the older girl’s now limp body and begins dragging it towards the drab basement door. When Ayano returns from school today she will have to get to work disposing of the remains but that will not matter in the slightest.

            Taking out the trash is just a chore like any other.

  1. **Obsessive**



            The butsudan in Ayano’s room is the thing that stands out the most.

            One would expect to see a computer or even a television. These are modern amenities that are almost impossible to function without in society. Nor would anyone blame her for the admittedly sheer volume of manga that stands on her bookshelves either even if they might frown that it is all the reading material she owns. She is still young and has not had the need to put away childish things just yet, which is what makes the display of religiosity on Ayano’s part so surprising.

            Common wisdom went that faith was declining across society. Newer generations had simply stopped caring about dogma this, ritual and tradition that, which had been followed to the letter by their families even only a few short decades ago. There was no use in wondering what god or spirit to pray to when science offered just as easy of an explanation without any need for personal sacrifice. Some of them even said good riddance to the death of superstitions that had helped form the bedrock of Shintoism too. A generation that had to worry about how to care for its increasingly elderly population did not have time to think about how best to honor Amaterasu’s heavenly court. No need to either when Ayano had simply found something far better to give thanks to than an imaginary deity anyway.

            Her mother had given it to her before she had left for her 10 week vacation to America, an heirloom she had said that had been passed down throughout the Aishi family from one daughter to the next, and Ayano had seen no use to it then. It would simply sit and gather dust like every present her father had ever bought her when she was a little girl. Yet she had been assured that someday soon it would become one of the most precious things she owned. She suspects now more than ever that every comment her mother had made growing up was less well-meaning drivel and more strong suggestions on why patience could be a virtue for her ‘condition.’

            It sits on her nightstand next to her bed almost like a security blanket for a small child its rich polished wood kept ever free from dust or whatever other blemishes might mar its surface. She has spent hours since her run-in at school with her red string of fate match tracing her fingertips along the dark lines of the chrysanthemum that is emblazoned on the center. Ayano has no idea how they came to own it; perhaps, given the mum blossom, it was once the property of a forgotten lord or lady during the shogunate or a monk that had gotten a bit too greedy and brought it home to his family from the shrine under everyone else’s nose. Whatever the case it was hers now and hers alone.

            If anything, what she has within her butsudan’s ornate frame are gifts to _her_. Locks of long violet hair tied together sit near the photograph of her love as a reminder that the spiritual and real are never far from one another. A crumpled water bottle with a bento box illustrates that even a celestial has its needs. The friendship bracelet, hurriedly plucked from a homeroom desk during lunch break before anyone returned to class, shows her that the object of affection believes bonds to be unbreakable. Their purpose is not only to fill her mind with wonderful memories that they will be able to reminisce about when they are old and gray together but lessons as well.

            Even she sins however.

            Kissing the photograph of the older girl (for practice, she likes to tell herself) is an all too common occurrence. As empty a shell as she had been Ayano is still a normal teenage girl with normal needs. If she is feeling particularly unrighteous she will even sometimes remove the bra and underwear from their hangers. Trembling fingers had brought the garments to her face time and again, her nostrils inhaling deeply the sublime scent of passionfruit that has long since faded away. Or if Ayano feels brave enough she will wear them herself even if the bra is several sizes too large for her. It does not matter. Both of their bodies have touched it and it is as if they have been one. It is a thought that dances through her mind as she lies in bed at night, her lower stomach burning with desire but never acknowledged and fading from her as slowly as a fire eating away at the logs underneath only to sputter out. There are simply some things she will not do and Ayano will be damned if her hymen will be broken by anyone other than Akademi’s resident kami. She cannot offer her a future without financial worry or being able to save her from the lying vermin she calls her ‘friends’ but she hopes her transgressions will be forgiven for her votive offerings.

            Ayano is nothing if not an attentive shrine maiden.

  1. **Breeze**



            Kokona does not consider herself a paranoid girl but even she has her limits of reasonable excuses for things that are out of the ordinary. It had started earlier that week on Monday when she had noticed her locker slightly ajar when she had gone to retrieve a book for her English class before the bell rang. There had been nothing that had been necessarily wrong about it. It was reasonable to assume that she had just forgotten to shut it earlier that morning. Yet that was only the first in a long list of strange things that were fraying her nerves.

            When she had been helping clap the erasers – her least favorite duty if for no other reason than its mind numbing repetition – after school later that day she had put her phone down on the counter behind her to avoid getting dust all over it after finishing a quick text to Yui. She had only been busy for three minutes, perhaps a little more, but when she had piled up her work the phone’s screen sat idly on the splash image of her pop idol crush of the week. Once again it was easy to chalk it up, no pun intended, to sheer coincidence. Perhaps the vibrations of her smacking the items together had caused the phone to register it as her trying to swipe the screen. That was all well and good; she did not think at first that anything was amiss. Little things like this had continued and she was willing to second guess that it was just her being forgetful. It had been on Wednesday night that she had begun to feel genuinely frightened.

            As an actuary Kokona’s father leaves her father every year to attend a three-day conference in Tokyo leaving her to take care of the house while he is gone. She is expected to lock the front door with the key hidden underneath the mat outside every morning before she leaves for school. She has done it so often and for so many years, even when her mother was still alive, that the habit is second nature to her. But when she arrived home that evening after being invited to the cooking club by Amai Odayaka to sample her latest desserts it was wrong from the moment she looked at the house from across the street. Just like her locker, the front door was utterly still save for being ajar. Kokona could remember how her mind had swum with one horrific scenario after another about what fate might await her if she were to step into the threshold by herself. In the end she called the police and despite their assurances to her that nothing was wrong with the home, no valuables had been stolen, not even the house key, and that no one was inside, she had gone over to Saki’s to stay the night. Suddenly all those moments from the past few days did not feel like random coincidences; they made a horrifying amount of sense.

            Kokona Haruka was fairly certain that she was being stalked.

            Why or by whom she did not know. There were dozens of possibilities, of course. Perhaps it was a girl whose boyfriend had looked a little too long in her direction at lunch or in between class and they were trying to figure out gossip they could spread about her. That was the most mundane thing she could think of though there were darker possibilities. Kokona’s imagination got the better of her and it was easy to consider flights of fancy where a greasy-haired man wanting to stab her to death while dressing up in a ridiculous costume in the middle of the night. As much as she hated to admit it she looked the part of a bimbo character in a horror film.

            Everything and anyone became a suspect in the span of only 24 hours. Her normally outgoing personality had been replaced by someone who was afraid to travel in a group of people smaller than three at all times. Hell, she even had jumped at the sound of a student opening and closing the classroom door during the middle of her history lesson. She could ride this out; she knew she could. If the police would not believe her now, Kokona is sure her father will. ‘He’ll be back by Saturday. Just keep staying with Saki and her parents until then. You can do this, girl.’

            Her confidence breaks by Thursday.

            The drama club had let out later than usual that day as one of their own had had detention that had prevented a key character from being present in their _Rashomon_ rehearsal. Annoying, but not a big deal. Just as with every other club meeting, Kokona set her purse against the wall next to the entrance of the room so as to not be distracted by incoming calls. In fact, this was another routine that was so hammered into her that she had barely even thought about it even with the strange things that had begun to creep into her formally unspectacular high school life. Yet as Kokona was leaving for the day and saying goodbyes to all of her friends she had spied something small and white sticking out of the corner of the purse that he could not recall putting there herself. ‘…Maybe I just forgot to write down an assignment in my notes?’ No, that could not be right. She carefully kept all notes for whatever pages she had to work on in her textbooks tucked away in a folder, organized by subject and time of day, in her book bag.

            Kokona exits through Akademi’s front doors before the curiosity is simply too much. In the setting sun’s rays she carfully withdraws the sharply folded piece of paper, staring at it perplexed. In the cleanest, unblemished kanji she has ever seen are several numbers in Japanese numerals. ’400-0401 7 9 10. A postal code? I don’t have to mail anything.’ But the more Kokona considered the strange string of numbers the more uneasy she became. Her thoughts at first drifted back to the past few days’ incidents but it did not make any sense. There was no way that her mysterious follower, if they were as sneaky as they had proven themselves to be, could get her address that wrong. Perhaps she was simply reading too deeply into it; after all, the stress was beginning to take its toll on her, something that Saki’s parents had even brought up to her last night at dinner, mentioning just how frazzled she was starting to look. A mistake was possible, Kokona supposed. Someone had tried to put something into their own bag but they had mistaken hers for their own.

            She barely registers the fact her phone is ringing as she reflexively reaches into her bag and puts it to her ear. “This is Kokona. Hello?”

            “Heya!” Saki’s bubbly voice comes from the other end and Kokona briefly forgets all about the strange code, desperately happy to hear someone who could keep her mind busy with something, anything other than this. “You still wanted to come over tonight, right?”

            “Yeah…” she trails off as she flips the small paper over and over in her free hand. “I’d like that. Are your parents still okay with that? I’d hate to impose…”

            “Nah, don’t even worry about it. They’d rather you be with us and feel safe than back at your house. They’ll probably want to know if your dad’s called a locksmith yet.”

            “Waiting until my father gets home on Saturday for that. You know how he gets about doing little projects around the house; he’ll probably want to DIY it.”

            “Good point. A little home improvement never hurt anyone, right?”

            ‘Even if the circumstances could be better…’ Kokona thought darkly.

            “Yeah. Right.”

            There is an awkward and uneasy silence that sits between them as Kokona moves the sliding phone back up to her ear just in time to catch Saki’s request. “Hey, would you mind doing me a favor? Mom ran out of miso soybean paste the other day. You know where the supermarket is by us, yeah?”

            “I don’t think so. What’s the name?”

            “Yamada Mart. I think it’s owned by the same family as that boy in 3-1. Should have a really big green-and-white sign. You can’t miss it since we’re about a block away from it.”

            “Can I have the address just in case?”

            “Sure, I guess. You remember the district we’re in at least, right?”

            “Uh huh.”

            “Okay. You’ll be going to Chome 7, Banchi 8, Go 2. Give me a call if they’re out or something; they’re a pretty tiny store. Be safe.”

            But Kokona has long since stopped listening by that point, her fingers gripping the paper so tightly in her hands that the edges are beginning to fray. Students blissfully unaware of her mounting terror pass her by not that they could help her even if they tried. Her fingers are numb as she simply drops her phone into her purse and begins her journey.

             Despite the strong breeze in the air, the walk toward the supermarket is icier than the dead of winter.

\---

Criticism and feedback are always welcome.

Chapter III is going to be with a certain red-haired information broker.


End file.
